


Reflecting Fragments

by wickedorin



Category: Tiger & Bunny
Genre: AU, Android, Bondage, Broken, Brutal, M/M, Mind Control, Other, tw:rape
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2012-10-31
Updated: 2012-10-31
Packaged: 2017-12-03 07:39:13
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence, Rape/Non-Con
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,595
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/695855
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/wickedorin/pseuds/wickedorin
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Written as a fill for a drabble request on AwaitingMassProduction: "Ouro!Bunny/Black Tiger, Dark non-con. Bondage optional but appreciated, Ouro!Bunny knows just what to say to tame a Tiger."</p>
            </blockquote>





	Reflecting Fragments

**Author's Note:**

> Yeah, so this... happened in my head. And here was the opportunity to write it. I appreciate being able to make myself cringe, what can I say.
> 
> I could go on at length about the fundamental differences in how Black Tiger and Ouro!Barnaby think and view the world and the concept of freedom, about which one of them is actually more of a prisoner and how much more broken one is than the other—but then I sound like a writer. Pft.

He lacked the more sophisticated facial muscles to allow for finer expressions. Frowning, for instance. As he walked the halls of the isolation building, however, he certainly _felt_ like frowning. Called again. A call that he could not disobey without alerting several dozen people as to his changed state of cognitive reasoning.  
  
There was also the uncomfortable thought of what may happen if the clone were not in some way subdued… but that was all pushed aside as he leaned in for the retinal scan. The first set of reinforced doors slid open for him. Then the second, the first closing behind him. Inside the third doors, he finally approached what truly resembled a quaint little apartment door, turning the knob and stepping inside.  
  
“Quaint” did not describe the interior. It was… “modern”, perhaps; sparse because it absolutely needed to be. All of the furniture contained within was more industrial than anything, materials that needed to withstand rages to fluctuating hundred power. The floors were as bare as the walls, the ceiling; the windows were fake, frosted glass over lights. It was a prison with very little effort to disguise it—but that wasn’t why the android disliked being there so much.  
  
The blond on the bed just smiled at him in that sincerely disturbing way that was so obviously false or empty or full of an emotion altogether wrong for the expression; or perhaps a combination of the three. The fractured reflection of Barnaby Brooks Jr., Ouroboros’ own clone kept locked away. His very presence was unnerving. More so when he stood and began sauntering over, voice smooth and soft and just the slightest bit wrong. “H-01. Black Tiger.”  
  
So that was it. That cold feeling winding up tightly; it was fear.  
  
” _Bitch_.”  
  
No. Dread.  
  
” _Heel_.”  
  
Helpless, agonizing dread. His will had essentially been severed from his body with the spoken command string.  
  
“There’s my good little puppet.” The clone praised with entirely too much fake joy. “On your knees.”  
  
Obedience was immediate and full, the android feeling himself kneel quickly, head bowed just enough to where he couldn’t see the blond’s face. That was a small comfort.  
  
“Oh yeah, just the way I like it.” The clone complimented, reaching down to tear the vest and shirt apart in one motion, hat grasped and tossed over his shoulder carelessly. Appearing to admire the scene in font of him, he then made an effort to remove that tie without damaging it. “You don’t need this, of course… but it just looks so fitting.” There was no hope of resistance in the least as he walked behind the android, drawing those arms back and binding them there tightly, wrist to elbow. Walking back around to the front, he just admired for a moment before reaching down, winding his hand in that artificial hair and lightly tugging the android’s gaze upward. “Beg.”  
  
His body could not disobey, of course. But his will controlled the actual synthesizer, the vocalizations utterly silent even as his lips moved.  
  
“Oh, that will not do.” The threat was sing-song, the blond momentarily disappearing from his range of sight before coming back with something shining in his hand. “Funny the things people can forget, isn’t it? Not that you would know. I really can’t believe they let me have forks, can you?”  
  
Dread increased exponentially. The dark copy of Barnaby simply stabbed with force and preciseness, gleefully going about tearing at the synthetic skin and “muscle”, delicate servos, and finally succeeding in snapping a great many connections that held the android’s right eye in place. Even with one visual sensor completely removed, hitting the floor with a clatter and crack, the clone kept going. He simply wasn’t satisfied until he’d exposed all of the machinery across one side of that artificial face, stabbing and ripping and breaking with vicious, efficient motions.  
  
“You’re kind of gorgeous with half your face missing, you know that? I’d dig out that other eye of yours, but then you wouldn’t be able to see me.” The blond simply tossed the fork toward the other side of the room, the sound of its clang far more pleasant than the sickening sweet voice that followed. “Just think. What would Wild Tiger do in this situation?”  
  
 _What would Wild Tiger do?_  
  
The answer was unfortunately quite simple. _Die._ That was the reason why this Barnaby could never be unleashed upon the world.  
  
The clone grasped the android’s chin, squeezing hard enough to hear the mildest grind of metal beneath. “Such a shame you can’t feel pain. I’ll have to see if I can’t make that a request. Of course, I’d have to be _good_ for that, wouldn’t I? And you know what makes me a good boy for Mr. Maverick?”  
  
 _Nothing. He punishes you, as well. For all the impact that it makes._ Those words were silent, all things waiting, unmoving. There was something past dread.  
  
“Why, working out my _aggressions_ , of course.” Barnaby’s shadow laughed, releasing the android’s face and moving behind him. “Legs spread, my sweet little toy. Let’s see if the boys in the lab listened to my suggestion.”  
  
He caught the flickering blue glow out of the corner of his remaining eye before his pants were torn off like paper. There was a much more controlled strength in the way two fingers were shoved inside him, and while there could be no physical pain, there was still something wounded because of it.  
  
“Oh yeah.” The clone moaned wantonly. “Got you fitted with a sleeve and everything. Fuck, that’s going to be nice. Shoulders to the floor, fucktoy.”  
  
The android was unable to resist the sharp shove between his shoulder blades, his exposed metal cheek making a grinding sound against the floor. He understood the fundamentals of what the blond was searching for, looking for a lubricant only to keep the experience favorable to him. The effects really couldn’t be felt by the android either way, knowing only the quick, brutal motions with gasps and groans and curses he couldn’t even understand.  
  
There was a _snap_ as the clone tugged his hair suddenly, forced his head back and his neck to move faster and harder than it was designed for. That got a low, rough moan from the blond, then his bound arms were grabbed with another _crack_ as one of the android’s shoulders was wrenched out of place. That was followed only seconds later by another grind and snap as his opposite shoulder was almost pulled from his body with the combination of pleasure and fluctuating Hundred Power, skin tearing, oil gushing, systems screaming internal alarms—  
  
Then shuddering. A weight over his back, and silence save a long moment of panting. The clone pulled back, pulled out, and stood with some difficulty. “Y’re f’ckin’ gorgeous for a broken doll.” He cackled to himself—then outright laughed, long and shrill and not quite any sound linked to sanity. “Oh, don’t think I don’t know! _Android_.” He spat, accusing, as if it were the end of some long debate against him and he so very much needed to be the obvious victor. “You’re a _thing_. You think there’s something _inside_. Well let me tell you: this is as good as it gets. Face torn up, arms broken, hot cum dripping down your thighs—there’s nothing left but killing whoever you’re told to kill. You’re a fucking machine. A computer. A _tool_.”  
  
He reeled back and kicked the android in the thigh, but most of the strength had gone out of him. Without strength, he had only viciousness. “One of these days you’re gonna get wiped clean. Deleted. You’ve got no soul. No one knows you exist, let alone is gonna care when you’re gone. You’re a fucking fake, an accident, a _mistake_ , and you don’t even realize it. But you know what? I like it that way. I like the way you try to fight. It’s gonna be so much more fun when I see you crumble when everyone else realizes the same thing I do.” With another shrill laugh, he took a few stumbling steps back.  
  
“H-01. Black Tiger. _Bitch_. You still belong to me.”  
  
Released. If one could call it that. For several long seconds, the android didn’t move. There was silence; then shrieking metal as he fully straightened up and stood. Instantly, all of the damage reports were being compiled for Rotwang’s convenience.  
  
Free to go. Logically, he should take the opportunity to get away. Something in him insisted, however; something in him flared as he turned to the clone. “I am not a _thing_. And I will break free.”  
  
Ouroboros’ twisted version of Barnaby proceeded to prove that he didn’t really require any special commands. The words made him fly into a rage so sudden and severe that Mr. Maverick took time out of his busy schedule to come “calm” him. Once the blond was subdued, a small team of engineers removed Black Tiger in pieces. His remaining eye never left Barnaby’s form even as he was hauled away, almost seeming to glare.  
  
All of the drives and data were intact and protected, at least, and that was the most important thing. Barnaby promised to do his best to be good after that, if he could just keep the eye he’d removed. To try so very hard to be good this time, this time would be better as he leaned into Maverick’s glowing hand with a vacant smile. And maybe, if he were _very_ good, he could talk the engineers into another interesting little project.


End file.
